And to All a Good Night
by Once Upon a Whim
Summary: Christmases in 2019 and beyond are unfathomably different from Christmas 2018. [Lucy/Wyatt]
1. Chapter 1

… **And to all a good night**

 **Just some silly, shallow, festive fluff. No beta, so anything off is all me.**

 **I know Lyatt Christmas came a few days before the real day, but I hope all my readers/reviewers have/had a lovely holiday, if you celebrate. If you don't, enjoy the new year next week :)**

 **Happy holidays :)**

* * *

Lucy flopped onto the couch with an exhausted grunt. Tired, not to mention overwhelmed, didn't even begin to describe it.

She did, however, manage to muster just enough energy to inch closer to Wyatt when he dropped the baby monitor on the coffee table and collapsed down next to her just a few seconds later.

"Oh my god," he grumbled, drawing her against his side, "I thought they'd never be quiet."

"Was it worse than normal?" she mumbled against his chest. "It was worse, right? Like they know how much we have to do tonight?" she added with a groan.

Wyatt let out a wry chuckle that resonated against Lucy's cheek. "Worse, for sure," he agreed with a sigh. "Amy's usually so… chill. Even when Flynn is screaming. But tonight…" He trailed off, shuddering, clearly reliving the fiasco from upstairs.

"You don't have to tell me," Lucy echoed, wrinkling her nose the all too vivid memory of the mess they'd just had to tackle. "And we did _not_ need that blowout."

Wyatt snorted. "And from the other end on the other one. Which…" He craned his neck, peering across to Lucy's opposite shoulder. "You got a little…" he gestured, pointing, "She got ya."

Lucy tugged at her shirt and wrinkled her nose when the streak of stray baby vomit became apparent. "Ugh. Ew," she lamented, squeezing her eyes shut. And, though not making a move anywhere, complained, "I'm too tired to go change." She did, however, let one eye open the slightest bit to peer at the messy array of boxes, shopping bags, and rolls of wrapping paper across the room. She winced and buried her face against Wyatt. "We didn't wrap _anything_ yet, did we?"

"Jiya's. One of Mark's," he informed her, then adding hesitantly, "Barely."

She didn't even want to think about how many more they still had to tackle, even without bothering with the things they'd bought the babies.

And it wasn't just gifts. "We didn't do the cookies yet," she groaned.

"Shit…"

Before she knew it, Wyatt was gone from under her, leaving her to topple over toward his end of the couch.

"The oven has been on forever for no reason," he explained over his shoulder as he dashed away to the kitchen.

Lucy knew she should get up and follow him, throw the cookies in the oven and begin to tackle the wrapping. But she couldn't bring herself to move. She did, however, realize one other, even more important thing, and called out softly, wary of anything louder possibly waking two little someones upstairs. "Wyatt!" she hissed.

There may have been a muffled "Huh?" from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, but, halfway to falling asleep, Lucy couldn't be sure. Still, she relayed her request of "Throw that laundry in!" in hopes that Wyatt had heard her.

She'd actually just started to drift off when she felt the couch cushion shift next to her.

A wan smile fought its way through the sleepy haze when she opened her eyes and zeroed in on Wyatt just setting a plate with a half-unwrapped roll of cookie dough on the coffee table. And then holding part of a slice of it out to her.

Lucy raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but still plucked the sweet goo from between his fingers. "We were supposed to bake that stuff."

"Believe me," Wyatt scoffed, "No one's gonna miss our 'gourmet' cookies tomorrow. Tastes better this way anyway," he shrugged, before forgoing the dough and tugging Lucy closer to him.

Which most certainly didn't provide Lucy with the motivation she needed to get up off the couch and be productive. Instead, she curled up against him, burrowing into his embrace as she yanked the blanket from the back of the couch over top of them.

"What time are we supposed to be there tomorrow?" she mumbled, already dreading a reply that would surely be far too soon.

"Ten," Wyatt groaned into her hair.

"Ugh, we'll have to get up so early," Lucy whined melodramatically before pulling herself up to a sitting position. "Do Michelle and Denise not remember what 4 months old was like?" she wailed. "And do they not know we have _two_?"

Chuckling, Wyatt pulled her back down against his chest. "Hey," he countered, with a smirk Lucy could hear in his voice, "at least they're too small to be up at 6 in the morning screaming about Santa."

"No, they'll just be screaming," Lucy pointed out, exhaustion still getting the better of her sense of humor as she wrapped her arms around Wyatt. "At 6. And at 3. And midnight."

Wyatt just pressed a kiss to the top of her head with another laugh. "So is next year the sweet spot? Less screaming, more sleeping, and they don't know what Santa is yet?"

At that, Lucy couldn't help but smile, visions of two sweet girls toddling around a year later. "Maybe," she murmured, still grinning at the thought.

"What about two?" Wyatt prodded further. "Are they still clueless when they're two?"

Lucy's grin faded at that notion, her thoughts suddenly turning to chasing after a pair of 2 year-old terrors, with a reckless streak inherited from Wyatt, doing all sorts of screeching, attacking the tree, breaking ornaments, and generally wreaking even more havoc than they had already as infants.

She shuddered, quickly pushing that thought away and focusing instead on the equally onerous task that was closer at hand. With a sidelong glance at the pile of gift-wrapping left to do, the half-decorated tree, the other decorations still packed away in a plastic bin pulled from her mother's attic before they'd sold the house.

Lucy groaned once more and pouted at Wyatt. "Do we have to finish this?"

Wyatt followed her gaze, casting his own defeated glance at the piles of stuff. "Wrapping?" he sighed. "Probably…"

"But the tree?" Lucy pointed out. "It can stay this sort of sad Charlie Brown look?"

"It's got lights," Wyatt assured. "That's the important part, right?"

Lucy frowned, torn between the pull of precious sleep and all the festive stuff she felt she should have been taking care of. "I guess…"

"Here," Wyatt murmured, giving Lucy's arm a squeeze before climbing off the couch. In the space of just a minute or so, he'd plugged in the lights of the sparse Christmas tree, flicked on the gas fireplace, and flipped off the rest of the lights in the room. And, as he settled back down on the couch, he scrolled through some music app, setting it to softly play "Silent Night". He reached to rest the phone next to the abandoned cookie dough, then pulled Lucy close yet again, smirking. "Better?"

Better was an understatement.

Lucy's eyes welled up, and, for the first time in days, felt a rush of something truly Christmas-y. For a split second, she even entertained the notion of going to get the girls to complete the family moment, but the drying spit-up streak still on her shoulder and the memory of the screaming earlier made her revise that back to just mom-and-dad time.

So she just brushed away those threatening tears and pressed a kiss to Wyatt's lips instead, then murmured her agreement with his assessment as she snuggled closer to him.

And with the flames flickering, the Christmas lights glowing, and their wonderful little girls finally asleep upstairs, it suddenly really did feel like the perfect Christmas Eve to Lucy, presents, ornaments, and unbaked cookies be damned.

Wyatt must have been feeling pretty similar; she felt him drop a kiss on the crown of her head, then hug her closer. "Can you believe how different this year is from last Christmas Eve?" he asked softly.

"1950 North Korea?" Lucy couldn't help but tease. "That assault upstairs wasn't too different from those communists," she added with a sleepy giggle.

But Wyatt wasn't taking the bait in terms of keeping the mood light. Sounding choked up, he gave Lucy another squeeze. "I'll still take this."

And the tears were back. Because, even at its worst, with screeching infants, piles of diapers, and no sleep, Lucy wouldn't trade their current life for anything in the world. "Me too," she echoed, pulling Wyatt in for a kiss before breaking away to rest her forehead on his.

It really _had_ been an insane year – a different kind of insane from all their days of time travel adventures, but insane nonetheless.

Defeating Rittenhouse. Truly putting the past behind her and reconciling with Wyatt for good. Having to re-enter the real world, figure out where to live, if she could get back into her position at Stanford.

The utterly shocking string of doctor's appointments in which they'd found out in short succession that not only was she _pregnant_ , but that they had almost surely conceived right there that first night back in the bunker, _and_ that she'd been carrying twins. Between the two of them and everything they'd gone through, Lucy had thought them pretty unflappable by that point. But for each of those three revelations, you could have knocked either one of them over with a feather. Though once the staggering shock had worn off, Wyatt had been the best of fathers to the girls since well before they were born. Not to mention the best husband – once they'd slipped away for a small destination wedding-slash-elopement in Napa in May.

And everything else… Buying a house for their surprise family, selling her mother's. The misery of the later months of a twin pregnancy, though that still hadn't even come close to comparing to the terror when, after Amy had arrived just fine, if a little early, little Flynn's vital signs had gone haywire, necessitating an emergency c-section.

The stress of the recovery and that first week with both girls in the NICU, and then a whole different brand of stress when they'd taken them home and were suddenly faced with juggling twin newborns without the help of a team of nurses.

Which wasn't all that far removed from where they still were now, with the girls at four months. They'd come up with a bit more of a routine, and Agent Christopher was generously keeping Wyatt on somewhat of an unofficial extended paternity leave, assigning him only the barest of tasks for the time being. But those babies still more than kept their rookie mom and dad on their toes, that's for sure.

And Lucy loved it.

Yes, all in all, this Christmas, for all the unwrapped gifts and unbaked cookies, far outweighed one that had started with both her and Wyatt half-broken and full of heartache, yet still keeping each other at arm's length.

Except, perhaps for one thing, she realized, smirking to herself. "My boobs did hurt less then though," she pointed out with a tired smile up at Wyatt.

That one did manage to break through Wyatt's pensive mood. With a teary-eyed chuckled of his own, he reached to cradle Lucy's face. "I love you so much."

It may have been the lack of sleep that made the tears spill over, but the tug in Lucy's chest was the same one she felt every time she heard those words from him. "I love you too," she sniffled, wrapping herself around him in a tight hug once more.

Wyatt embraced her right back, murmuring in her ear, "Good year?"

"Good year," she echoed, squeezing her eyes shut in sheer happiness. "The best."

But in the end, closed eyes and being wrapped up in Wyatt were doing her no favors in terms of staying awake and getting things done. But she kind of didn't care. "Can we just stay here tonight?" she sighed against him, half-asleep.

"Fine by me," Wyatt replied, planting one more kiss on her head. "Fine by me."

* * *

"Santaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Wyatt winced blearily, rubbing his eyes and squinting into the barest of dim morning light as the shrill squeals continued upstairs.

Shrieks of 'Santa!' eventually merged into a jumbled chorus of endless, nonsensical 'SantaMommyDaddyAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!' that grew louder, the slaps of two pairs of little bare feet on the stairs joining in.

"Three," he grumbled, doing his best to bury his face in the mess of wavy locks in the crook of Lucy's neck. "It's three when they get up at 6 screaming about Santa."

He could feel Lucy's chuckle as he curled around her and could practically hear the sleepy smirk in her voice when she corrected him. "5. Not 6. It's 5."

"How long does this last?" he groaned in protest against her neck. "Nine? Ten? And then we go back to no Santa?"

"Oh, stop," Lucy chastised, swatting his arm as she pried herself up and away from him to focus on the sources of the squealing, both now kneeling in front of their piles of gifts. "Hey you two," she scolded playfully, "no Christmas hugs for Mommy and Daddy?"

Even Wyatt had to grin as that set off another round of screeches as the girls scrambled up off the floor and launched themselves in the direction of the couch. And forget being a grouchy, sleep-deprived Scrooge – he was damn near beaming a split second later, arms full of one of his baby girls, the other just down the couch wrapped in Lucy's embrace.

And when his eyes locked with Lucy's over two little brunette heads, to see her just as excited as Flynn and Amy, he couldn't help but choke up.

He'd come so damn close to never getting _any_ of this.

But god, was he so freaking grateful for every second of it.

Or _almost_ every second of it.

For, with his emotions getting the better of him for a moment, Wyatt missed Lucy's giddy instruction of "Switch!" to the girls, telling them to trade parents for a second hug. Which meant he wasn't quite prepared for the flurry of little feet, knees, and elbows that ensued. One of which ended up catching him in a rather sensitive area.

So he was less than grateful for that particular second. Well, minutes.

Wyatt grimaced, hunching over in agony, even with Amy still clinging to him.

Of course, when he could finally see straight again and caught a glimpse of Lucy, she was failing spectacularly at stifling her laughter over his misery. He glared; she managed to coax her expression into looking nearly contrite as she mouthed "Sorry."

Though then Lucy leaned over to him, purposely cradling a little pig-tailed head out of earshot, and whispered mischievously, "I'll kiss it and make it better later."

Wyatt's eyebrows flew up, enticed. "Promise?" he asked, shooting Lucy a wicked smirk.

She just winked before turning her attention back to the antsy girls. "So do you guys think you were good enough for Santa?" She prompted. "Think he brought what you asked for? Go see!"

God, he loved her.

Even amidst the new round of ear-piercing shrieks she'd just set off as the girls were off and running back toward the tree. Even with his crotch still smarting. Even when, every year, they never get as much done on Christmas Eve as they should and end up nodding off together on the couch all night.

He loved her. Always.

So Wyatt didn't hesitate in hauling Lucy back across the couch toward him for the biggest of hugs. "Merry Christmas," he murmured against her shoulder.

He was, like every year, thrilled to hear Lucy's contented, happy sigh in his ear as she echoed, "Merry Christmas."

 **~FIN~**


	2. Chapter 2

**As with last year, some Christmas fluff. Slightly more serious than last year, but fluff nonetheless. Tried to get it posted the 24th or 25th, but this will have to do. No beta, so please excuse any typos.**

 **I hope everyone who celebrated had a lovely Christmas, and I hope everyone has a happy new year :)**

* * *

 **December 25, 2023**

Wyatt peered across to the other side of the car, glad to see that Lucy was able to easily lift Amy from her car seat and relatively gracefully perch the sleeping little girl on her hip.

With a softly-chuckled sigh, he looked down. Flynn, in spite of the car seat's belts and buckles, still managed to look all sorts of awkward, with arms and legs askew and her head at what had to be an uncomfortable angle, and the blanket they'd tucked around her when they got in the car in lieu of a jacket had long since been kicked to the floor.

His gaze met Lucy's as she shot him a smirk before turning to head up to the house. He scoffed; she knew as well as he did that Flynn preferred Mommy when she was awake enough. Of course, Lucy also knew as well as he did that, between the two girls, Flynn was the near-violent (albeit inadvertently) sleeper and had thus called dibs on Amy.

So, with no other option, Wyatt carefully unclipped his daughter's seat harness and lifted her up and out of the car as gently as he could. He immediately had to duck a near-head butt. "Jeez, kid," he grumbled under his breath, trying to keep a grip on her. A few haphazard flails of her limbs later, he managed to have her relatively stationary in his arms. Granted, she was sprawled horizontally, with one arm dangling down, so he was carrying her more like a sack of potatoes than a four-year-old, but so be it.

With Flynn finally still, he managed to kick behind him to close the car door so he could follow Lucy and Amy up to the house. He'd come back later for all the gifts in the trunk.

Lucy had just managed to unlock the house while balancing Amy when Wyatt got to the porch. "Hey," he murmured, "get the keys out of my pocket and lock the car."

She must not have seen Flynn until then; he could tell she was almost bursting into giggles right in Amy's ear when she caught sight of Flynn's rather dramatic pose in his grip. Still, she managed to keep quiet, then pushed open the door to let them all inside. Once there, she shut and locked the door behind them, and Wyatt angled his pocket in her direction so she could snag the car key from his jacket pocket.

As soon as he heard the faint beep from outside, Wyatt made a beeline for the stairs, lest Flynn start thrashing around again.

Upstairs, things were a bit easier. Wyatt flicked on the small nightlite, and was glad to see by the dim glow that they'd had the foresight to turn down the covers on the girls' beds before heading over to dinner at Denise and Michelle's.

So, ever so carefully, Wyatt laid little Flynn in her bed, then eased off the new _Frozen 3_ slippers from Olivia, and tugged the blankets up to cover her. He leaned a pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, marveling at how still and angelic she could manage to be sometimes. Then he turned around just in time to catch Lucy doing the same for Amy. He couldn't help but get a little choked up; Lucy with the girls was one of his favorite sights… ever, honestly. Throw in the Christmas-y feeling? No contest. He reached over from where he was crouched to give her elbow a squeeze.

She looked over her shoulder and shot him a soft smile as she stood. Wyatt followed suit as Lucy whispered, "Good call on having the jammies change over there."

Wyatt stifled a snort, heading for the hallway. "Did you _want_ to fight them on it again this year?" he reminded her, ushering her in front of him with a hand at her waist. "They were up until midnight last year when we woke them up to change."

Lucy whirled around accusingly once they were clear of the girls' room. "You were right there with them playing with their new toys!" she hissed.

"Only because you were a Grinch and wouldn't," Wyatt shot back softly, smirking.

She just rolled her eyes and groaned, huffing a half-laughed "Oh my god" as she turned to head down the hall away from him.

But Wyatt wasn't about to let her go. Before she got too far, he snagged her by the waist and tugged her back toward him. "I'd _rather_ be playing with _you_ ," he teased, planting a kiss on her cheek from behind.

Lucy resisted for a second, but with a sigh of mock exasperation eventually succumbed, going slack in his embrace and turning to tuck herself against his side in front of the girls' doorway.

"You love it," Wyatt chuckled.

They had matching grins that came together, first in a sweet kiss, but rather quickly, Wyatt felt Lucy nip at his bottom lip, teasing her way into his mouth as her nails snuck up under his shirt to scrape over the skin of his lower back. He was more than willing to go along with it, tugging her closer as he drank her in.

But then she leaned back, pulling away only enough to break the kiss, but remained in Wyatt's embrace. "I love _you_ ," she murmured, looking up at him.

Wyatt had his echo of the sentiment on the tip of his tongue when Lucy broke their eye contact, instead hugging him closer and laying her head on his shoulder. And, looking into their daughters' room, she added, "And them."

As if the 'I love you' from Lucy hadn't been enough on its own, bringing the girls into the mix had Wyatt's eyes tearing up. There just weren't word to describe what he felt for the three of them. He buried his face in Lucy's hair, only able to choke out, "I know how you feel."

They held each other for a few moments, gently swaying together.

And then Lucy let out a weary-sounding sigh.

And leaned back in Wyatt's embrace, eyeing him with a contemplative look.

Curious, Wyatt eyed her right back, asking cheekily, "…what?"

But instead of the playful direction he was going in, the look on her face turned even more serious. When she took another deep breath and swallowed hard, Wyatt's concern level crept upward.

It inched ever higher as Lucy remained silent, biting her lower lip as she regarded him, as if she were debating whether or not to say anything at all.

Just when Wyatt was about to prompt her and ask if everything was ok, she finally spoke up, asking in a quiet, halting manner, "…do you ever… think… about having another one?"

Relieved at first that nothing about what she said indicated that anything was wrong, Wyatt then looked at her in confusion, his brow furrowed. His mind raced; another… what?

It took Flynn flopping around in her bed and absently launching a stuffed dog onto the floor for it to click. Wyatt's breath caught in his throat and his heart sped up. His gaze darted back into the girls, then to Lucy. "A…nother… _baby_?"

That earned him a shrug and then eventually a sheepish nod from Lucy.

The breath that Wyatt hadn't realized he'd been holding flew out of his lungs. His mind raced, but he pulled Lucy into his arms once more, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. He took a deep breath and nodded toward the girls' room. "Let's not… do this here."

He hated the apprehensive look that his words left on Lucy's face, but that topic deserved more of a conversation than just standing in the hall. So he eased away from her, but gripped her hand in one of his as he stretched to pull the girls' door closed.

And, with all sorts of emotions running through him, he led Lucy downstairs, pulling her close as he collapsed onto the couch in the living room.

"Of course I do," he finally said, the admission escaping in a whoosh of a breath. And he did. All the time. Especially when the twins hit certain milestone that he knew they'd never get to experience again. Never get to experience again, unless…

"You do?" Lucy exclaimed, a look of pure surprise gracing her pretty features.

"Probably before they were even born," Wyatt admitted with a teasing grin.

It lightened the mood enough; Lucy rolled her eyes and smirked back. "Ok, definitely not feasible then."

"And it still wasn't after," Wyatt replied more seriously. "Which is why you had that thing shoved in there as quick as you could," he added, nodding toward Lucy's midsection and, indirectly, the IUD she'd had placed right after the twins were born.

Which maybe didn't go over quite as well as he'd hoped. "We _agreed_ about that," Lucy reminded him, sounding defensive and shying away from him.

"I know we did," Wyatt reassured her as he pulled her back to his side. "I'm not saying we could have had another kid then. Or any time since," he clarified. "Doesn't mean I never thought about it," he added with an honest shrug.

Lucy shifted a bit next to him so she was facing in his direction. "You never said anything."

Wyatt shrugged again helplessly. Could he have been better on some fronts in terms of communication? Sure. They both could have been. But… "I mean, we talked about it right then, when you got the IUD in the first place, but it's not like we set an appointment to… talk about it again," he explained. "There's no way we could have handled it until they were, what? Three? Or potty-trained, at least," he reasoned.

"And by then, you were back into teaching, and tenure stuff, and…" He trailed off, not really wanting to get crass about… reproduction… in this kind of situation. But, it was true… "I have the easy part," he pointed out. "You were miserable those 8 months. Especially at the end." He blinked hard, shaking his head; he'd delivered two babies with his own hands before that, but it hadn't even come _close_ to preparing him for the absolute _agony_ of having to witness Lucy suffering through labor with Amy, never mind the sheer terror when the emergency c-section to save Flynn had unfolded right before his eyes. If she wanted it, that was one thing, but he'd known since then that _he_ could never ask for her to go through that again.

But Lucy just brushed that off. "That doesn't matter, big picture."

Wyatt's eyebrows shot up. She was… serious. But… "You didn't say anything either," he countered gently.

"I know," Lucy lamented. "Because you're right. But… I don't know," she murmured, looking around, scanning the tree and the gift carnage from that morning. "I got tenure," she shrugged. "We… went to see Flynn. And… the journal. It _worked_. And, I don't know, Christmas…"

Christmas. Wyatt swallowed, not wanting to let himself get too far ahead of himself if this was just something brought on by the sentimentality of the holiday or something like that. "Not before this though?" he wondered aloud, prompting with caution.

"Of _course_ before this," Lucy confirmed, causing Wyatt's heart to thud a little faster. "But same things you said. It… didn't make sense," she sighed. "Before. And," she continued with a hard swallow and a shake of her head, "I think I didn't even want to let myself think ahead and plan for _now_ because I was afraid it would have… jinxed things or something."

Which Wyatt completely understood, and maybe that was also part of why he had been content enough to not bring anything up over the past year or so. "Yeah..." he acknowledged. "But now?"

Lucy turned further, making herself completely square to him on the couch. "I…" She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing hesitantly, "feel like we could? I mean," she said, swallowing hard, "I'm old. Older next month," she amended ruefully. "But," she continued, her expression tentatively hopeful, "we might still have a year or two?"

Even as Lucy rambled on, her nerves evident, Wyatt couldn't have stopped the grin on his face from growing wider if he'd tried.

"I mean, I don't know if I'd want… you know, all sorts of medical stuff," Lucy admitted, "if we can't. Not that level of trying. I don't think…" she hedged for a moment.

That thought sobered Wyatt a little. It wasn't a guarantee that anything would happen. He'd had a couple buddies in the military whose wives had had issues even when they were younger, and the whole process they'd been through sounded like hell. Which, sure, maybe if you really wanted a kid of your own and didn't have any yet, but they had the girls…

He was drawn out of that musing when he caught sight of Lucy's hopeful expression as she continued, proposing, "But just… seeing if it happens? Even at …41?"

Wyatt chuckled; he knew the realities of biology, but he nodded up in the direction of the twins' room, reminding Lucy, "You were _already_ what your doctor said was old, and it took us _literally_ one _single_ day to get _two_."

Lucy punched him in the arm with a wry smirk. "You don't know it was that day."

Wyatt just eyed her skeptically, his eyebrows raised tauntingly. "Fine. Then _two_ days." She knew as well as he did that they'd slipped up and been lax on the birth control front until they'd stopped at Walgreen's for condoms as soon as they'd surfaced from the bunker on the 26th. At which point they were already useless, though they obviously hadn't known that at the time…

She just scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I blame your reckless sperm."

Wyatt laughed loudly, scoffing right back. " _Your_ overachieving eggs," he countered. "You're the one who made it twins."

Lucy clearly had no defense for that and just rolled her eyes again, smiling as she did.

"Hey," Wyatt pointed out, "that's a _good_ thing. Maybe overachieving then means things are still working even now," he hypothesized, gesturing to her midsection again.

Whether it was the reminder that things might not be working, or just the weighty conversation in general, Lucy's expression grew serious once more, and she sighed again as she studied Wyatt. "My annual is right before my birthday. I could get the IUD removed."

Wyatt didn't hesitate. "Do it."

"Really?" Lucy asked, seeming surprised.

"Yes," he replied, grinning broadly.

But Lucy nervous expression made it seem that she wasn't yet convinced that _he_ was convinced.

" _Yes_ ," Wyatt insisted, hugging her to him. "Might be nice to, ya know, actually know what's coming this time."

With a teary sniffle of a laugh, Lucy agreed, "Yeah."

"Look," Wyatt said, drawing Lucy into his embrace again, "there are a million reasons not to. The world's a mess, we're already chasing the two we have, we're older–"

"–so more can go wrong," Lucy interjected. "If anything happens at all."

"Yes, I know," Wyatt acknowledged, "and diapers are freaking ex _pen_ sive… But none of that matters if we end up with another one half as perfect as the two we have. Lucy," he said, holding her close and suddenly choked up all over again, "I love you _so_ much, and if you actually want this, I want it too."

Lucy looked up at him with a watery smile. "I love you too," she murmured before dropping a quick kiss on his lips. Wyatt would have been happy to let that linger a bit longer, but she pulled away with a pensive little smile on her face. "…You want another girl?" she asked, almost in awe, having latched onto his mention of 'another one' in reference to the twins.

But Wyatt just shook his head; that's not what he'd been getting at. "I want any kid we can get," he clarified with a grin.

"I would love a little girl," Lucy sighed with a faraway smile. "And you know Amy's been asking for a baby sister for the past two birthdays and Christmases… But," she continued as she sat up a bit to focus on Wyatt again, "I want… a little _you_. A tiny _you_ ," she mused. "Don't you want a boy?"

"No, you don't," Wyatt corrected her with a chuckle, not even bothering to answer her question.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"I'm an ass _now_ ," he reminded her. "Imagine what I was like when I was in the terrible twos. And threes. And everything else. We have a boy," Wyatt snorted, "and he's gonna have to be way more like you than me."

"Not sure that's up to us," Lucy replied, a half-smile gracing her features.

"True," Wyatt agreed. "Flynn wouldn't be quite so… _me_ … either, if it was."

Lucy admonished him with a swat immediately. "Oh, shh," she hissed. "She's perfect."

With a brushed kiss to the top of her head, Wyatt agreed, murmuring, "I know." Flynn was. _Amy_ was. And Lucy was. Part of him was apprehensive about going forward and changing anything about their family, but the rest of him knew very well that the twins, for all the work that went into… well, _everything_ , about them, had brought nothing but good things since they'd been born.

He almost couldn't imagine how amazing it would be if they were able to have another little one.

He almost didn't want to try to imagine it, lest he get himself too worked up over something that might not actually happen.

Lucy must have been somewhere in a similar contented, but apprehensive, but excited mental space; after a few moments of both of them lost in thought, a soft laugh bubbled up from her. "Are we gonna do this?" she wondered aloud.

Wyatt took a deep breath, making sure he was secure with his decision. Then a grin broke out on his face. "Yeah," he affirmed. "We are."

That got an equivalent grin to appear on Lucy's face. "I love you," she said simply, smiling over at him.

"I love _you_ ," Wyatt echoed, then leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss that held all the promise of the love they'd have for any more children they might have.

Of course, the promise of that expanded family, a new perfect little baby, Lucy looking absolutely beautiful cuddling a tiny infant, or even before it was born, glowing and round… Well, maybe it was some sort of primal instinct kicking into overdrive, or maybe it was just the fact that the lead-up to Christmas craziness hadn't left them that much time or energy to do much together in a while, but pretty quickly, Wyatt felt that kiss intensify, with Lucy's tongue teasing his own.

He dragged his teeth over her lower lip, swallowing the soft hum of pleasure that it elicited from her.

Wyatt was just about to haul her onto his lap when Lucy leaned back with a cheeky smirk and her eyes twinkling mischievously in the soft light of the Christmas tree.

Her voice breathy and inviting, she warned, "You know nothing'll happen yet."

"Hey, practice makes perfect," Wyatt panted, staring at her shiny, swollen lips, ready to dive back in for yet another kiss.

Those lips grinned back at him, hurriedly agreeing, "True" before meeting Wyatt's again.

Wyatt groaned as Lucy's tongue slid over his once more, and let out a second when she leaned backwards across the couch, pulling him down on top of her between her legs.

Pressing his hips to hers, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, first breathing in her sweet scent, then alternating teasing nips and kisses along her jaw. He felt her legs lock around the back of his legs as her nails once again raked over the skin of his lower back. Wyatt couldn't help rock against her in response, which earned him a throaty giggle of satisfaction as she arched up and rocked right back against him.

He'd just slid one hand up under her, along her smooth back toward her bra strap when he heard the little squeal behind him.

And no sooner had he registered that squeal, Wyatt felt the impact of a tiny body and increasingly gangly little limbs on the back of his legs.

"Flynn!" he hissed, contorting himself enough that he caught a glimpse of his daughter tumbling face-first into the back of the couch as she clambered over him. "What are you doing?"

She popped up against his hip, beaming as she tried to reach around Wyatt to touch Lucy. "You're tickling Mommy," she giggled, still struggling to climb over him and reach Lucy. "I wanna tickle."

Any sort of chance of romance or passion very effectively shot down, Wyatt switched modes and, careful to avoid Lucy's legs, sat back up, and, in one fell swoop, scooped Flynn up onto his lap. "I'll show you 'tickle'," he threatened, even as he was already making good on the threat with the little girl.

Flynn let out a piercing shriek, laughing and protesting simultaneously as she squirmed in Wyatt's arms.

Which had Lucy rocketing up from where she'd still been leaning back on the couch. "Shhh!" she warned Flynn, though Wyatt was quite sure it was aimed at him as well. "Do _not_ wake Amy up."

Chastened, Wyatt ceased the tickling, and Flynn quieted as well. With the noise level down, Lucy smirked at Wyatt with a slight shake of her head, then looked down at Flynn. "What are _you_ doing up?" she inquired softly.

"I wanna play my new Legos," the little girl declared, trying to wriggle out of Wyatt's hold on his lap.

"Baby, it's late," Wyatt admonished in a hushed tone. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

"But," Flynn whined, squirming on his lap, "I wanna–"

Both Wyatt and Lucy had to stifle laughs as Flynn undermined her own case with a head-splitting yawn that interrupted her protest.

With an affectionate squeeze of Flynn's knee, Lucy offered, "How 'bout this? No Legos, but you can pick one of your new books for us to read."

Flynn looked thoughtful as she considered the compromise, then happily nodded. After shimmying down off Wyatt and the couch, she scampered over to her pile of gifts to rifle through for a suitable new book.

Wyatt shot Lucy a sidelong glance, offering an apologetic shrug when her gaze met his. She just shook her head with a defeated smile. "And we want another one?" she whispered.

Wyatt smirked and tugged Lucy back over to sit next to him, but didn't get to respond. For just as he opened his mouth, from upstairs came another tiny voice calling, "Daddy?"

Of course they'd woken Amy up too… Wyatt didn't even bother looking over at Lucy, lest he be on the receiving end of an exasperated glare. "Yeah, bug?" he called back softly, glancing up toward the staircase.

"Are you playing with my toys?" Amy demanded.

"No, kiddo," he assured her with a smile. "But Mommy is going to read a new book to me and Flynn. You can come down too."

The words were barely out of his mouth when he could make out the sound of little feet scampering down the stairs and then she burst into view clutching a beloved, scraggly teddy bear.

By then, Flynn had finally made her book selection, and in unison, the twins launched themselves at their parents, each curling up on a lap, Flynn with Lucy and Amy with Wyatt.

With the four of them cuddled together there, on the couch, late on Christmas, with Lucy softly reading to their girls, Wyatt knew, for sure now. They had it perfect. But he definitely wanted to try for just a little more perfection.

Predictably, both girls were out like lights after only a few pages.

And, once Lucy had set aside the book, pushing it to the far end of the couch and hugging a snoozing Flynn to her, Wyatt let out a deep breath. He cradled Amy against him and dropped a kiss on the baby-fine hair atop her head and glanced over at Lucy.

Her eyes were shiny when she met his gaze, and she gave a quiet, questioning tilt of her head.

Wyatt couldn't help but smile and give a tiny nod of affirmation.

* * *

Lucy sank into the couch, feeling as if she might never be able to muster the energy to ever get up again. She was just giving up on the fight to keep her eyes open when she felt Wyatt sink down next to her.

"Hey," she murmured, blinking back awake with a sleepy grin.

"Hey, yourself," he retorted softly before stealing a quick kiss.

And, once more giving up on the eyes-open battle, she snuggled closer to Wyatt. "Tired," she sighed.

She felt his chuckle rumble through his chest under her cheek. "Yeah, but we're done," he reminded her. "Everything's wrapped. Cookies are done. Messy, but done."

"Hmm, yeah," Lucy smiled, half-asleep as she recalled the absolutely insane sticky mess that was cookie-decorating with Flynn and Amy the day before. "I don't think either of them is going into cake-decorating for a career."

"Outfits ready for tomorrow, the rest of the food for Denise's is ready," Wyatt continued, rattling off the other things they'd managed to actually get done on time, "and I set an alarm for later to make sure 'Santa' puts stuff under the tree."

Lucy grimaced; the odds of either of them heeding an alarm that wasn't a screeching child were slim. "Just do it now," she mumbled against his shirt.

Wyatt scoffed. "You trust they're not getting out of bed again?"

Fair enough, Lucy acknowledged silently. Flynn was no more likely to stay asleep in bed near Christmas this year than she had been any in any other year. "True," she agreed softly.

"Gettin' good at this though," Wyatt observed, running his fingers up and down Lucy's arm.

She couldn't help but smile and hold him tighter. "Seventh time's a charm?" she teased, opening her eyes enough to tilt her head up and smirk.

"Helps that six years-old means they can actually help wrap stuff, and the cookies, and clean up too," Wyatt added.

A good point, but Lucy was too exhausted to vocalize her agreement, and instead opted to just curl up closer to Wyatt. With a deep breath, she let her eyes droop closed once more.

At least until a soft cry filtered down from upstairs a few moments later.

"And there it is," she heard Wyatt groan. "Wrapping isn't the only thing different this year…"

With a shaky yawn, Lucy pulled herself to a sitting position. "Yeah. Six years, good. Six months? Not so helpful…" she lamented with a rueful smile over her shoulder at him.

"Yeah," he sighed, "but we've done this before too." And with a surge of effort, he hauled himself up off the couch from behind Lucy. "I got it," he assured her, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze.

"You sure?" she asked, skeptical.

He shrugged. "Shouldn't be hungry now, right?"

Lucy tilted her head in acknowledgement. He wasn't _wrong_ … Still… "I can come up if you need," she whispered after him as he made his way toward the stairs.

The soft little cries tugged at her heart, but a moment or so later, the quieter whimpers and accompanying low murmurs that she could just make out from Wyatt tugged at her heart in a completely different way.

They were so, so lucky.

Their conversation two years earlier had led to a heartbreaking string of miscarriages; it seemed her body had had little issue _getting_ pregnant at 41. _Staying_ pregnant has been the unexpected hurdle.

Which mean that last Christmas had been all kinds of fraught, with her finally a bit farther along, but still nowhere near home-free. Turns out it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to suddenly be starting to show before they'd wanted to share the news with anyone.

Thankfully, they'd all made it through that last holiday season and, in the next year, ultrasound after ultrasound had continued to show the strongest of little heartbeats. And–

Lucy tensed, the fuss from upstairs no longer just that softer whimpering anymore.

When the louder cries didn't stop, she pulled herself up from the couch and hurried up to the nursery.

Even amidst the cries, she couldn't help but pause momentarily at the door when she caught sight of Wyatt inside, swaying gently with their tiniest daughter in his arms, gently shushing her. Scenes like that – Wyatt with _any_ of their children – still took her breath away, even six years into parenthood.

Years with the older girls had turned Wyatt into a bigger marshmallow than ever; he had even more of a soft spot for little Lily – named as such when Wyatt insisted that the woman in their lives most deserving of having their daughter named after her was Lucy herself. Touched as she'd been by Wyatt's insistence about that, Lucy had resisted; she'd spent enough of her own life trying to live up to her mother. The last thing she wanted was to place any sort of expectations on their baby girl by saddling her with the same name. So the compromise had been Lily – short for 'little Lucy'.

Just then, Wyatt looked up from the baby, catching Lucy's eye.

"Thought you might need reinforcements," she whispered, crossing the room over to where he stood. He just rolled his eyes and smirked, obviously resigned to Lucy having been right.

"Hi, baby girl," Lucy cooed, and quickly brushed a kiss atop the tiny girl's little head.

But it was the cries from the other side of the room that begged for her attention.

Lucy hurried over to the second crib, wincing when she caught a glimpse of the sweet little red face, wet with tiny tears, within. She reached down immediately, lifting the baby up, murmuring, "Oh, what's the matter, sweet boy, huh?" Bouncing the little boy in her arms, she stroked his downy hair. "What's wrong?" she murmured to him. "Shh, Mikey, shh… It's Christmas, baby…"

She was ever so grateful when little Michael's cries tapered to match the quiet whimpers of his sister. Hugging him closer, she caught Wyatt watching them from across the room; she couldn't help but smile even as her son's little body still tensed now and then.

 _Know what's coming this time._ Sure, she scoffed inwardly even as she kissed Michael's little head.

Never in a million, zillion years – especially after the miscarriages – would she or Wyatt _ever_ have expected twins _again_. That ultrasound was possibly even more of a shock than the initial one with Flynn and Amy.

But now that they were both here, neither she nor Wyatt could ever have pictured anything else for their family. Their four–

Her train of thought was interrupted by Michael suddenly ramping up the volume once more. "What?" she murmured, "What's wrong?"

She had to stifle a laugh when he quieted back down almost immediately.

Tiny Wyatt, indeed.

Michael may have only been Wyatt's middle name – and Grandpa Sherwin's first name – but the little boy was indeed all Wyatt so far. Bluest of blue eyes, and looked enough like him even in utero that the ultrasound tech could make out the resemblance. Though he not yet quite as skilled as his daddy at controlling the range of emotions that came along with being a little, tiny, hothead.

Lucy turned as Mikey quieted down; it sounded like Wyatt had gotten Lily back to sleep without needing to resort to a diaper change or feeding. And yes, sure enough, he was easing the little girl back down into her crib.

Thankfully, it seemed that Michael wasn't too far behind; by the time Wyatt was able to tear himself away from watching Lily slumber away to creep up behind Lucy and wrap his arms around her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder, the little boy just about out.

Lucy reveled in the feel of Wyatt's embrace and their tiny son breathing steadily in her arms. Not everything was _perfect_ perfect – they still had no idea how they were going to handle the bedroom situation in the house once the little ones were too old to be sharing a room, Amy was still having some jealousy issues when it came to the little siblings she'd been so excited to get, and she and Wyatt were exhausted beyond belief even when it _wasn't_ Christmas – but it was still _their_ brand of perfect.

Finally convinced that little Michael was asleep once more, Lucy reluctantly eased herself out of Wyatt's arms to carefully set the little infant back down into his crib.

"G'nite, bud," Wyatt whispered from next to her, brushing the barest of caresses over their son's round little cheek. "Merry Christmas."

Lucy bit her lip, her heart feeling like it was the Grinch's when it grew three sizes.

With one last look at her two babies, she grabbed Wyatt's hand and tugged him out into the hall. And, with all the fervor of their first night together, years ago in Hollywood, she threw her arms around his neck and captured him in a tight hug.

"I love you so much," she sniffled. "Merry Christmas."

She felt him squeeze her tighter. "You too," he murmured in her ear. "So much."

 **~FIN~**


End file.
